Scene 1
The wooden dojo hall was alive with the rhythmic sounds of students practicing their strikes. Aimi stood at the front of the class, her long black hair tied into a high ponytail.
She moved among the students, catching flaws in their stances.
Aimi wasn't just a good teacher, she was an extraordinary fighter. Her strength, agility, and skill was inhuman, resulting from relentless hard work and incredible talent.
Her parents had pushed her into martial arts at a young age and left her at age 12 to work overseas, cutting almost all ties and only delivering impersonal letters and monthly deposits.
The anger and hurt she felt toward them lingered for years. But at a certain point, the bitterness got too exhausting. She chose to free herself from misery and live for the little package of happiness. It wasn't easy to choose to live, but she did it, eventually.
The sky outside began to glow with the deep orange hues of sunset as Aimi wrapped up the session. She dismissed the students with a bow, packed her belongings, and headed to the showers.
As a university student, she had a full schedule of assignments.
By the time she arrived at the library, night had fully fallen. She pulled out her books and got to work.
Hours passed, steady rhythms of her pen scratching filled the silence.
When her work at the library was done, Aimi packed her things and headed home. The streets were quiet, and train was empty. Walking down the familiar residential path toward her home, she let her thoughts drift.
She sighed. It was obvious something was different. She had noticed a presence trailing her for most of the day—subtle at first, so she dismissed it.
Aimi halted mid-step.
"Okay, it seems like you don't intend to leave me alone," her tone unbothered but tired. "Haven't you watched enough?"
"Oh, so you did notice,"
A figure emerged. Satoru. He wasn't in his casual attire this time; instead, he wore what looked like a tracksuit-looking uniform, his eyes hidden beneath a strip of fabric. His white hair spiked upward rather than attractively flowing back and forth across his eyes.
How does he even see with that on? she wondered.
"It's you," She had expected someone dangerous, perhaps a black-market kidnapper or something.
Gojo pulled the fabric from his eyes, revealing his oceanic blue gaze that shimmered under the streetlights. His hair returned to its original position, rustling down, "You look disappointed hahaha-" he laughed, stepping closer.
"Why are you following me?"
"I caught a glimpse of you this morning and decided I had some time to spare," he smirked. "So, I thought I'd see what Aimi-chan does in a day."
"This is a crime and it's called stalking."
"I call it following your heart," he shrugged.
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Stop this. Stop following me. What do you want?"
"I just want to know more about you," he leaned down slightly to meet her gaze.
She scoffed, a smirk of mockery forming. "For what?"
"I like you," he said casually, the words of confession were more clinical than romantic.
"I'm not some scientific subject for you to investigate," she snapped. "I just want to live my life, so leave me alone, Satoru."
He laughed. "So you do remember my name."
It's been a long time since anyone called him by that name. Suguru Geto was the only one who did. But well, he never told her his full name anyway, and neither did she.
"I remember everything," she said, tapping her temple. "I don't top my department for nothing."
"I like this energy coming from you," he rubbed his chin.
"What," she reached out to push him back, "stop looking at me like that."
Gojo had instinctively activated his Infinity barrier, but just like before, her hand glided through it like butter. His expression froze.
"You really are a phenomenon…" he murmured, more to himself.
"You just don't listen," she took a few steps back.
He caught her wrist. "Say, Aimi-chan," he began with a grin, "do you wanna be my friend?"
"No."
"Ouch." He placed a hand over his heart in mock offense.
"If that's all you wanted, then it's settled," she said, turning on her heel. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going home."
Her footsteps steady against the quiet residential street and so were the footsteps behind her.
Aimi gave up arguing. When they reached her house, she unlocked the door, stepped inside, and moved to shut it—only for Gojo to block and invite himself in. His trademark smirk of arrogance hadn't budged.
Aimi resigned. She already decided he wasn't a threat, at least not physically. "Whatever," she muttered, moving inside.
Her home was modest but cozy. A two-story house with a small living room, kitchen, and two bedrooms upstairs. It was meant for a family, but Aimi lived alone.
Gojo trailed behind. She ignored him as she went through her motions.
When she headed to the bathroom to wash up, he stayed put in her living room, casually flipping through TV channels.
She returned too see Gojo still here, he glanced up with a grin. "Nice place you've got."
"Thanks," her expression neutral. She walked to the kitchen, opening a cabinet to grab a mug. "Tea, coffee, milk, water?" She poured herself a cup of milk.
"Tea," he bossed from the living room, "with lots of sugar and milk."
She returned a few moments later with two cups, setting one down in front of him. Without a word, she sat beside him and snatched the remote control. With a flick of her wrist, an anime was playing on the screen.
"You like this kind of show?"
"Zip it."
"Hmmm," he hummed, leaning back lazily.
The silence stretched, save for the cheerful theme song playing on the TV.
"How long are you planning to stay here?" she broke the quiet.
"I planned to sleep with you," his tone laced with teasing as he flopped his head backward.
"Neither my bed nor my couch can fit you."
"Floor works." his grin widening.
"Okay."
"Oh so you've stopped resisting me."
"I can't afford to waste more energy," she sipped her milk, complete indifference. "Do whatever you want. I don't care anymore."
"but-"
The moment was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. He sighed before even picking it up. "Where?" he asked upon answering.
After a pause, he hung up and turned back to her, his usual teasing expression slipping back into place. He pulled his long legs onto the couch, sitting cross-legged like a child. "Aimi-chan, I've got work."
"Good for you."
Grinning, Gojo leaned over and patted her head. "Don't miss me too much."
With a dramatic sigh, he stood, making his way to the door. The moment it clicked shut behind him, the house returned to its usual quiet. Aimi exhaled softly, basking in the peace that settled over her once more.
She leaned back on the couch, staring at the TV as her favorite characters filled the screen. For now, everything was back to normal, just the way she liked it.
———
Scene 2
It was a typical afternoon at the university. Aimi sat in her usual corner of the library, her textbooks and notebooks spread neatly in front of her. Her pen moved steadily as she worked through another set of dense chemistry problems.
But then, she felt it.
A familiar figure approached her table. In the subdued light of the library, Gojo Satoru stood out. His tall frame, silver hair, and sunglasses perched carelessly on his nose immediately drew the attention of nearby students. She could hear the faint whispers around her.
"Who's that?"
"He's so tall!"
"Is he from our school?"
"I've never seen him before-"
Gojo slid into the seat across from her, taking off his glasses to reveal them sparkly blue eyes.
The moment they locked eyes, she sighed audibly.
"You're kidding," she returned to looking at her notes. "What are you even doing here?"
"Visiting."
Her pen stilled, brows furrowing. "Don't you have anything else to do?"
He shrugged. "Not right now."
She tried to ignore the weight of his gaze and the attention he was still drawing.
Gojo rested his chin in his hand, watching her scribble away. He didn't say much, but she'd catch him tilting his head or poking at one of her highlighters, like a bored child.
"What are you even doing?"
"Looking at you."
It was true. Gojo had been watching her. She exuded no cursed energy, none at all, and what intrigued him even more was her ability to nullify cursed energy entirely. Earlier, he sneakily sent small pulses of cursed energy toward her. She showed no reaction, not even flinched.
Questions piled up in his mind. What would happen if he tried domain expansion near her? Would his techniques even work? Her existence felt as if it were drenched in positive energy, and not the reversal kind.
He studied her. If her existence were to be exposed into the jujutsu world, she'd be in danger. The higher-ups, sorcerers, intelligent cursed spirits—they'd not leave her alone. She was a living anomaly, someone who could cancel curses and heal by mere presence. What else was she capable of?
He didn't talk much, but his actions were loud enough—tapping the table, sliding her pens around, and occasionally leaning over to peek at what she was writing.
"How long are you planning to sit here?"
"Dunno,"
"Okay." Aimi groaned softly.
The tension finally broke when Gojo's phone buzzed on the table. "Work. As usual."
"Good," Aimi said, already waving him off. "Go."
Gojo chuckled, slipping on his sunglasses and standing to his full height. As he adjusted his coat, he leaned down briefly and patted her head. "Later, Aimi-chan."
Truthfully, she was growing curious about his work. The nature of his job didn't seem like any other regular one.
He waved and strolled out, his exit just as disruptive. Aimi caught the faint smirk he threw over his shoulder, and her eye twitched.